


The Great Journey: Little Lady

by Sholpanthewanderer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Feel-good, Friendship, Gen, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28787595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholpanthewanderer/pseuds/Sholpanthewanderer
Summary: A Great Journey is... well, it's Great. But do you know that to ensure such luck one must thoroughly prepare? Little Lady does. She knows quite many things. How to dance with the Night and where playful Shadows hide. But to her disappointment that's not enough. With her friends, the ones she has known for a long time and the ones she has been acquiring along the way, Little Lady will learn the magic of every moment of her life and get ready for her Great Journey. She just needs to wait for the storm to be over...*don't be fooled by a child protagonist. The book is written for adults. For the ones, who want to experience magic once again**this book is a part of a fictional universe, which consists of four books. However, the books are not sequels to each other, they are connected by their world and some characters





	The Great Journey: Little Lady

In the centre of the City on a huge square between two houses there was a small alley. It was so narrow that not every adult man could squeeze into it. Not that the size truly mattered - the right people walked easily between the brick walls covered in soot. The Sun seemingly stuck right above. Only with the start of the evenings he moved away. And at the end of this alley stood a house, or more precisely, a green door, always open to an occasional guest.

This house was as if alive. This was felt in everything: in the rustling of doors, in the creaking floorboards, in the breath-wind sweeping from room to room. It was decrepit, sunken, coughing with window frames, but alive.

Climb up the stairs, exactly twenty-three steps, and find yourself in an attic. And there, in the corner beside a workbench, you could see a tinkering old man looking through a monocle at the small parts of his bizarre machines and mumbling under his nose about misbehaving tools. More often than not a little girl, who came to visit him every day, sat in an armchair.

That old man’s name was Mr. Jicks. It was not his actual name, to be honest, but his little guest knew the inventor under that name. His real name probably didn’t even exist. His little guest was no more than eight years old; she came in adorning fancy dresses, because, according to her, she just had been at a ball. She had red curls and green eyes, so in the old days some would have called her a witch. She always said she really could do magic, just didn’t want to. And Mr. Jicks showed her his wondrous inventions, treated her to a tea and called her Little Lady.

The attic was not very large, and because of the numerous gizmos, machines and bookcases there was absolutely no space. Only one lamp burned and the tall piles of books cast Shadows on the ceiling. Not sinister, but quite friendly, with whom you could exchange jokes or play cards. Only the latter did not happen often, because Little Lady said that gambling did not suit decent and educated creatures. And they took off their hats, apologizing, and gallantly bowed to her.

Trick-track, trick-track - all the time sounded in this attic: that was a clock suspended from the ceiling beating the rhythm with gears. This clock was very strange: round in shape and with ocean splashing in it. Sometimes quiet, sometimes stormy - but almost always seagulls screamed over a ship sailing on moody waves. This clock Mr. Jicks made himself like everything else in the house. Strangely it did not have arrows and numbers; only he and his Little Lady understood it perfectly.

“It’s night there right now.”

“You are right, absolutely right,” so they talked drinking tea in huge cups.

“Hey, we can eat soup from them!” the inventor liked to scream or shout.

“Here we can. But there they just drink tea.” 

“Yes, perfect tea out of that blue berries.”

“Of red!”

“Yes-yes, you are right as always. Of red. Red, like water at sunset.”

It was the beginning of May, its very first days. People already dressed for the Summer smiling at the Sun, who managed to break through the smog hovering over the City like a dome. Everywhere you looked dandelions peeked through the grass and in the cracks between roads and curbs. Bright yellow, like thousands of suns, they imitated the real one and blinded the eyes. Even their scent was bright, sharp; the white milk dripping on the fingers from the torn stems smelled especially strong and was bitter on the tongue. Now it was just the perfect Time with the perfect Weather. Apparently they came to an agreement driving the gloomy clouds away and enjoying each others company. Old Woman-Weather and Wise Time with a thick beard - they were perfect companions, who decided to knock on the doors of this City. And he joyfully let them in sparkling with fireworks of flowers.

Our house also became animated. Its walls were now covered with tenacious plants. No, not the ivy but something else, as if from a far-away land at the edge of the world. The paint on the door was refreshed, and now it urged to come in; and there was no more wood stained with slush. And the house even sounded better. It breathed loudly and steadily inhaling the freshness of the streets and exhaling its inner May.

As usual, exactly at noon, old man Jicks and his guest looked at their clock, noting the overcast weather and the storm, and set about the midday tea. At the same time, the inventor managed to repair something in a strange mechanism, reminiscent of a pair of dice linked to each other by a chain. And Kiri, as that was the girl’s name, frowned at him and pursed her lips.

“This is the tea!”

The old man looked at her in surprise, that even the monocle fell.

“The tea. Exactly that. The tea and nothing else. Not coffee, not milk, not juice, not fruit compote – only the tea.”

“So drink it, all will wait.” 

“Yes-yes, all, indeed, will wait. However, I am afraid that this gismo will not. Just a little bit of Time and we could go further.” 

And she continued to sip from her cup, which was quite large, and he screwed in tiny little bolts invisible to an eye without a magnifying glass. Silence crouched beside him plunging everything around into herself; only the “trick-track” was heard in the attic, and somewhere far away a horn whistled making its way through the neighborhood to a small window.

Someone knocked on the door. It opened immediately, and a very tall man entered the attic bending as the ceiling was low. He came close to a table and bowed. He looked like a cane, which he held in his hand: just as thin and straight. His hair was curling under a black hat like wool of a lamb.

“I beg your pardon, but I need your help,” this stranger said. “The matter is I have the key and I learned you have the map.”

“What happened?” old man Jicks asked stopping his work on a peculiar machine. The visitor was curious enough, which became apparent from the way Kiri was squirming in her place.

“Ah, I did not explain! I am sorry. The matter is I have long been looking for Princess. I had overcome many ways but…” he shrugged, “unsuccessfully. Without the map a key is just a key.”  
And he pulled out a small silver key from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“So, what is your name?” Kiri asked finally joining the conversation.

“Oh, just call me mister K.” 

Old man Jicks picked up the key and looked at it for a long time squinting his eyes in the dim light. Good-quality. Custom made. Only one thing suited it. The inventor began to sort through a huge stack of papers and books. The attic was filled with noise and dust. Little Lady sneezed softly and immediately blushed; and Mr. K modestly stood in the corner and did not move at all. Only a timid smile continually appeared on his good-natured face. Shadows were having fun; they mimicked old man Jicks playing out on the walls a sketch about how all these mountains of things simply would fall on him. They wiggled comically but behaved properly the moment Mr. K. looked at them.

And the time passed; the cool wind crept into the small window and stirred everything in the attic. He played with scraps of paper trying to carry them away but quickly lost interest in them and whirled away leaving a cool memory. Mr. Jicks creaked, punted, and it seemed that the whole house trembled in the same attack of an old age. But then he gave a joyful cry and turned to Mr. K.

“Here,” he put a small scroll on the table and opened it pressing the edges with an inkwell and different machine parts.

This map was quite unusual. It was absolutely empty, except for a drawn keyhole in the center. Mister K. put his key in it and turned it clockwise four times. After a few moments the map curled up in a roll again and faded leaving no trace. Little Lady triumphantly smiled and stood up from her armchair. Mr. Jicks scraped away the garbage in the corner of the attic and lifted a hatch cover. 

“Come in.”

Mister K. politely let Kiri go forward and then he jumped down after her. And the old inventor, true to himself, continued to tinker humming a long forgotten melody.

A Summer shower cut through the heavy air. The noise of the water dropping on the ground echoed inside the chest as a second heart. It filled the space muting all other sounds. The smell invaded the thoughts jumbling them into a song only rain like that could play. 

It was truly a wondrous place, and Kiri was entranced by the loud rhythms. Her head was spinning from being overwhelmed. Hair stuck to her face and neck, clothes suddenly felt smaller in a size, but the girl was happier than ever. Because a rain like that was a wonder and nothing else. It urged to run around laughing with all your might and jump into the puddles that seemed more like seas rather than splashes on the ground. It washed away sadness and dirt leaving only good things behind itself.

Mister K. shouted and pointed to the south, where a small trail twisted into a grove. And Little Lady, coming back to her senses, hurried there trying to straighten her hair and clothes on the move. Her eyes glowed with bright fire enchanting everything around her with their piercing color, the color of new leaves glistening in the rain. Tam-tam-tam - was the sound of the drops. Like a march, this sound escorted the travelers further. Tam-tam-tam - sounded in one ear and in the other. Tam-tam-tam - they were tireless drums. And our travelers stepped in that rhythm, feet landing in the puddles with a loud clap.

It took only a few steps along the trail as everything has changed. The rain abruptly disappeared and even the clothes dried instantly. The girl looked back to see an incredible place where an eternal Summer shower rained.

“Mr. Jicks says all seriousness - this is nonsense,” she said as it felt like a time to say something.

“Really?” Mr. K. asked because it was rude to say nothing in return.

“Yes,” Kiri nodded and then kept going on, “and that once weak wind was strong, just lost his power while has travelled great distances. He keeps the memory of those places and can tell a lot. In addition, all in the world should sound properly. Do you understand? Each mechanism in each component has its own sound, unlike any other. The main thing is to be able to distinguish them. Mr. Jicks can. He listens to his metal parts of iron, sometimes frowns, but often nods because the sound is good, correct. And if something goes wrong, he repairs this thing, and it can exist again. Here, he has repaired your key. Without the map, it would not work; they had to be put together correctly. I,” the girl frowned, “do not know yet how to listen. However, Mr. Jicks says I don’t need it, because I just feel it. It is like magic. Bam - and all is immediately clear. And you, do you know how to listen?”

Mr. K. smiled thoughtfully and adjusted his hat leaving the question unanswered. Because it is not always necessary to answer. Because they do not always want to hear the answer. Silence, surprisingly for some, is the first stage to understand. Just listen like old man Jicks or see as someone else or smell or touch, but give yourself a moment to feel with no talking or interrupting and no more unknown or invisible things will exist for you.

“And my ocean - it is far, and that land - even further. Ocean is blue-blue; all sorts of strange creatures live in it, and it will be happy my ship would sail on it. However, not yet. Do you understand? Everything must be on time. At the right moment, says Mr. Jicks, and the most important thing is not to miss it. I cannot stay here where no one can see our green door and does not know what the house is worth. And it’s when it is right in the centre of the City! I am still waiting; though, it is difficult. I am not ready yet; the Journey is not so easy to go on. This is not like buying an ice cream. And it is not like overeating chocolate. And it is not like even flying to the Moon. This is serious. Mr. Jicks says that the Journey is not just passing miles, but coming back to your real home. So, I will go back home when the time comes.” 

They kept walking and Little Lady kept talking, and Mr. K. listened intently smiling about something only he knew. 

The terrain has changed. They had already passed snow-capped mountains and a desert, even a deep lake with underwater palaces; and all these transformations took place in seconds. However, they did not notice it going farther down the path.

“I think that’s it,” Mr. K. said suddenly and stopped. He tapped his cane on the black wet earth and nodded. “We probably should stop this dream.”

“And then you can find your Princess?”

“Yes. She is needed by many. I am nothing more than a seeker,” then he stepped back, “Please…”

The girl smoothed the folds of the dress and sat down on a large rock, warm from the Sun. Now it could give warmth by itself, which poured into her palms. Mr. K. was standing motionless and silent as Kiri breathed deeply.

“She is near. Very-very close. Sorry, I do not have a compass; Mr. Jicks promised to make me one. Or a machine that increases the noise. You can hear an ant crawling.”

She opened her eyes and looked to her right, at the cliffs cut by the winds and burned by the Sun.

“Can you do the thunder?” she finally asked after thinking for a long time.

“I think that here - yes.”

And Mr. K. struck his cane against the ground. Then again and again, until the lightning cut through the sky. The place was filled with noise: that were animals and birds in fear. It looked quite strange - the bright Sun and lightning with thunder. The earth began to move and trees rose into the sky; and some could even think that these were the thousands of oddly shaped balloons soaring upwards. BAM-BOM! BAM-BOM! The wind - WHOOSH! And hundreds of small stones on the ground sounded like drums. BAM-BOM! BAM-BOM! WHOOSH! TAM-TAM! BAM-BOM! BAM-BOM! WHOOSH! TAM-TAM!

Little Lady covered her ears and laughed singing this tune. Everything around was singing, dancing in a whirlwind, bursting and floating. This certainly was not a waltz but the fire that escaped from inside a volcano. Fast cutting steps and lunges, twists that could sweep you to the ground, swinging of arms, bright laughter and bold eyes - the place danced like no other. And Mr. K. was conducting an invisible orchestra using his walking cane.

Then it stopped abruptly, as if life was cut short. And then silence came. So precious and comfortable, she covered this place like a blanket and wished it a restful sleep.

“Well, this is it, I suppose. Princess woke up, now I need to look for her,” Mr. K. smiled and offered to go back. 

They were still going through the same deserts and glaciers, but everything froze in the ringing silence. Only grass or snow rustled under their steps. Soon they were back where the eternal rain was falling. Little Lady run a little under it, silent now, and then they went back to the attic.

And it met them in the same darkness and by old man Jicks, who at first did not even notice that they were back. Then he groaned and hurried to put a kettle on a stove. Only Mr. K. politely refused.

“Thank you for the help,” Mr. K. bowed and then took out a small key from his pocket. “This is for you as my gratitude. I know you have searched for it long.”

Kiri gently took the gift.

“Careful,” Mr. K. warned, “it’s made out of a faraway mirage.” 

Then he smiled, descended from the attic and came out into the narrow alley. No one has seen him after that.

“Is it?” Kiri impatiently asked. 

Old man Jicks examined the present and clicked his tongue.

“It is. Put it with the others.”

Little Lady gently opened the top drawer of his table where there were no less strange things. A turquoise stone wrapped in the finest and softest cloth, a piece of a canvas, some small parts.

“Soon. Do we still have time?” she went back to her place, the giant red armchair, and gently smoothed her skirt.

Kiri looked at the clock.

“Plenty of time,” reassured her Mr. Jicks. “For now, I will be working on a special compass. It does not show the north and south, but shows the direction of that which you most desire.”

“This is a very good invention!” Little Lady clapped her hands.

“You are right, as always.” 

And everything in the attic went as before. The clock trick-tracked, Shadows played, and the house creaked and breathed. Some day, very soon, the ocean would spill and there would be no end to it. And Little Lady would go on her Journey. But for now they were waiting, because even though May has come to the City, somewhere there was a storm...


End file.
